Star Wars: Shadow Collective: Paradigm of Treachery
by DepthRuler
Summary: An evil alliance awaits its true forge. Darth Maul and Savage Opress have escaped Obi-Wan Kenobi's assault once again. With their visions of an empire of dreams imperiled, the fates of one a prodigiously power individual are about to be decided. What is lost is often found. The Dark Side not only clouds everything for rightful benefit: it's a path of treachery.
1. Chapter I: Harbinger

**Credit for the funeral of Jedi Master Adi Gallia goes to Tenkai Nankobo. Read his stories, you'll enjoy them.**

* * *

"I think we have closure on this matter, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan Kenobi, masterful representative of the Jedi Order and General of the Galactic Republic, had finally found the willpower to collect himself after bearing the loss of his close fellow master Adi Gallia to the violent brutality of Savage Opress, brother of his undeservedly ressurected arch nemesis Darth Maul.

As always, these sorts of matters were yet again taken to the attention of Chancellor Palpatine. He had spent a long subconscious moment mourning the loss of his dear friend while Jedi Masters Yoda and Mace Windu were conferring with Palpatine regarding the latest events of the two Sith brothers' activities in the galaxy. Excessively large bounties weren't enough, nor were the manipulations of Mother Talzin or the constant send of Jedi peacekeeping forces. What convinced Palpatine that closure had been reached, Obi-Wan couldn't know.

"I disagree, Chancellor. Everything we've learned from this is that the Sith are persistent," he replied, his weariness undisguised. "They will not die." He betrayed no emotion, and Palpatine seemed to nod with a sympathetic and seductive smile.

As oblivious as all politicians as well as ignorant of how their actions were perceived by others, Obi-Wan found himself not nearly as trusting of Palpatine as Anakin. As all politicians, he sought control through false sincerity and manipulative, however fatherly gestures. And even if not, it would have served much better were politics to be kept outside of such affairs.

And so, in that, Kenobi's disappointment came to bear with the Chancellor's next statement.

"I understand your reservations, Master Kenobi," he said. "But I'm afraid we can no longer allow this . . . _personal_ matter of yours to be of public concern." Ever the economical, he strode about the room and looked at everyone facing him with that persuasive _you-know-I'm-right_ look that Obi-Wan knew all too well among politicians. "It does not appear this Darth Maul is a direct threat to the Republic. We need to redirect our efforts to the cause at hand—stopping Count Dooku and thus ending the Clone Wars." On that final stern note had he faced Kenobi, whose self-preservation was still straining for lasting composure.

"Maul was trying to build an army of _pirates_," Kenobi argued once again.

"So let him. Let him play with the rabble." He batted his eyes and turned away in almost a dance.

"They're just petty crooks," Mas Amedda added to further Palpatine's support, confidential advisor of Palpatine and Lord Speaker in the Republic Senate.

"It is of no relevance to the Senate compared to the Separatist threat." He smiled at all of them before turning for his personal quarters with Mas Amedda. "Good day, gentlemen."

Of course. It wouldn't be right if one day went by that Obi-Wan's fears for the security of the galaxy had once again been glossed over. On the bright side, the Chancellor had finally taken his leave. Now he would have a chance to confer with his peers himself—though to what avail it would be, he couldn't fathom. Then again, it wasn't his place to question the Jedi Order's duties to the Republic.

"Something is stirring in the underworld. Crime families have had too much free reign since the Jedi have been distracted by the Clone War." He turned to Yoda. "I fear it is a fertile place for Maul to flourish, if he has indeed survived."

Yoda hummed quietly in his muffled tone. "Right you may be, Obi-Wan, but heed the words of the Chancellor we must. A personal matter this is for you; clouded your judgment may be."

Was this personal-based judgment on such matters the best excuse the leaders of the Republic now had to offer? It wasn't logical to say his judgment would be clouded again. His emotions had run high during the liberation of Naboo and may have strengthened his resolve in un-Jedi-like ways, but his motives and his mind had been set clear—such was the reason Anakin was now a savior of the galaxy, even as different as he was.

Yoda seemed to had read his internally conflicting thoughts, and tried to present a compromise. "If he lives, reveal himself again, Maul will. And then, swiftly we shall act."

As they, too, took their leave, the conversation regarding the incident continued.

"In the meantime, let us make preparations for the funeral of Master Gallia," Master Windu interjected. "It is long past time we consecrated her body in the Temple while her spirit becomes one with the Force."

Obi-Wan nodded, knowing fully well that leaving the body of a dead Jedi Council member unattended was a bad idea, even for a short period of time.

But this one was different: Master Adi Gallia was once the mentor of a Jedi Obi-Wan had fallen in love with. And even before discovering his feelings for the apprentice known as Siri Tachi, Kenobi had been good friends with both her and Gallia. His own Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, was a good friend of Master Gallia and both the men and the women became exceptionally close for Jedi. Now Gallia, Qui-Gon and Siri were all dead with Siri being the only one who wasn't killed by Maul or his brother.

Were Yoda and the Chancellor right about his judgment being clouded by his personal experience with the Dark Lord? Could he have just been overreacting because Maul had survived being sinfully sliced in half and now Kenobi needed to make sure the job was done? Or did he feel an underlying need for revenge that could only be satisfied with seeing the dead bodies of Maul and his brother? When he had used his lightsaber and Adi's in unison, he felt empowered both by the strategy of using Jar'Kai and the fear he sensed was growing within the brothers the more he used it.

Had he preyed on that fear as well as the surprise hidden beneath their courageous faces when he first took on a Jar'Kai stance? If so, he had made himself no better than the brothers ever were just to bring justice to the closest things to parents he ever had. He had made himself just like the Sith so he could avenge Qui-Gon—the father figure of his life—and Adi—the mother figure—in one final battle. It was the exact same tactic Maul had used both on the duel in Raydonia and on Florrum.

He had so many questions racing in his head and not enough time in which to answer them before he had to clear his mind of thoughts unrelated to Master Gallia. After all, he was the one who knew her best that was still alive and the only one capable of giving final words about her. His former Padawan Anakin Skywalker tried his best to assist Obi-Wan in calming himself but as always, Anakin's attempts added to the frustration rather than reduced it. The same could be said of Anakin's own Padawan Ahsoka Tano who tried her best to aid him as well, but found she couldn't.

* * *

"I'm worried for Obi-Wan. He hasn't said a word since going into the Chancellor's chamber with you," Ahsoka had said to her Master before the procession.

"Sometimes, no words are needed to mourn those we loved that are now lost to us forevermore. He'll be alright. He just needs time to clear his mind of the whole situation involving Darth Maul and his brother," he replied.

Anakin could feel Obi-Wan's mental signal for brief comfort, thankful for the compliments to his intelligence but unrelaying of anything else on that front.

It was when the procession finally began that everyone stood to attention to hear the oral obituary by Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. But not before they first laid Adi's punctured body to rest and watched as the hatch doors to her grave opened to allow her entrance into the pit awaiting her and sealing as she descended. As the orange beam of light which symbolized the closing of her tomb shone, Windu called Kenobi to the front.

"Please tell those in attendance at the funeral what you remembered of Master Adi Gallia before her death," Mace Windu requested politely.

Anakin watched as his hesitant friend walked to the stand. His expression burned with perspiration and an urge to hide what he had to live for—a feeling Anakin knew very well, however better at hiding it.

"I first met Adi Gallia when she and her Padawan Siri Tachi accompanied my Master Qui-Gon and I during the Zan Arbor crisis," he began.

No one in the chambers interjected, having full knowledge of Zan Arbor and his obsession with harnessing the Force. This had gone on to include the _experimentation_ implemented on Qui-Gon and Adi Gallia when he managed to capture them. As a result of that knowledge, combined with the irrelevance of the knowledge in this speech anyhow, Obi-Wan was allowed to continue.

"She had an excellent fighting ability, her use of Shien being one of the most exceptional displays I have ever seen. But besides that, Master Adi Gallia was a fearless, charismatic, and wise leader who dedicated herself to the Order in every aspect of her life. She was a kind being who wouldn't stop to help someone who was in need, even if the circumstances of her mission were dire. My Master Qui-Gon respected her as a friend, which was something I came to do for both her and her Padawan Siri later on. Having said what I have of her character and her combat abilities, she did not deserve to die the way she did at the hands of the Dathomiri Zabrak Sith Lord named Savage Opress.

"He was reckless, brutal, and primitive in how he used his saberstaff and desperate in most of his attacks. And I must admit that when I saw him gore her with his horns before skewering her with his blade, I could not hold back on my desire to kill him. However, I was forced to settle for having severed his left arm, which has become a trophy of Hondo Ohnaka since. But I commemorated the memory of her by using her lightsaber in unison with my own against the brothers, defeating them as a direct result.

"Strength in character prevailed when strength in numbers gave way to it. But I will never forget the years of friendship and constant companionship Adi Gallia has given to me. She and her deceased former Padawan were there for me nearly as long as my former Master had been, and that is something I don't take lightly. Neither should the rest of you who knew Adi Gallia and can relate your own experiences with her to mine.

"We will never forget you, Adi Gallia. May the Force be with you in the netherworld. And may you find peace in there that you did not have in your final years of life," he said, concluding his speech with that last blessing.

* * *

Though the Jedi around him applauded his speech, Obi-Wan knew that their applause was not a result of the words in his speech. Instead, it was the power and compassion with which they were said that had truly moved them and impressed them to warrant applause.

After the applause rang through the chamber, those who also had knowledge of Adi Gallia or worked with her spoke. But Kenobi did not want to stay around for this part of his friend's entombment process. Instead, he wanted to meditate and see if by doing so, he could somehow track down Darth Maul's location or at least follow him where he may go if he was still alive. He needed some hint of either solace in Maul's death or worry that Maul had survived the skirmish on Florrum.

It was true that he had no intention of disobeying the Council's will, but he had to know anyway. After all, nothing said _prepared_ like knowing the true status of your enemy's existence before those who commanded oneself did. He also decided that he would not relay what he found to Anakin, knowing how he had revered Qui-Gon as the father he never had. Anakin would be out for revenge for the death of Qui-Gon and Adi Gallia far more extremely than Obi-Wan.

Thus it was best not to discuss revelations of any kind with his former Padawan who had also worked with Gallia and Tachi when Kenobi was a collaborator. With his kind of attitude, Maul and Savage would be triumphing over the Jedi Order relatively quickly as if that wasn't needed to worsen things he added to himself. With these thoughts and the goal of finding Darth Maul and his mysteriously originated brother Savage Opress, Obi-Wan crossed his legs, inhaled and exhaled slowly, then began a trance. His quest for knowledge had begun and he was ready for anything that turned up as a direct result of it.


	2. Chapter II: Shadows

**Credits for the involvement of Republic Commando Gregor go to Tenkai Nankobo. Read his stories If you're a true fan.**

* * *

Pre Vizsla, leader of the Death Watch and plagiarized former Governor of Concordia, strode about in the lifeless escape pod that he and his crew aboard the _Gauntlet_ had salvaged from space, having sought inventory and resources to profit from for the opportunity to strengthen their resolve.

He was flanked by his armed Mandalorian guards and most specifically his lieutenant-in-command—as well as the mate he planned to take on—Bo-Katan, commander of the Nite Owls group the Death Watch had established within themselves. Primarily, Bo-Katan emphasized unions within the Nite Owls so the Mandalorian dynasty could continue to grow in strength and numbers.

They all ignored the coldness of space that resided within the room. At last, they had reached their destination—the entrance to the escape pod they had latched themselves onto.

Vizsla drew his Darksaber—a weapon stolen generations ago from the Jedi Order, their most greatest enemies, by the Mandalorians of old. Unlike any other lightsaber, the weapon generated a beautiful and unique black blade, outlined by white and filled with starry oscillations of energy.

As he ignited it, he took one step back and plunged it into the sealed door before him. Having practiced with the blade for some time, he had developed his muscle and grown used to creating entrances much more quickly than many others. Not only this, he was one of the greatest swordsmen among any living Mandalorians in the galaxy—at least, that was what many said of him. He had, in his amateur state, given the Separatist Count Dooku himself some trouble and survived. The scar that remained on his face was proof of that.

In a matter of seconds, a circle's burning outline had been carved into the door. Two of his guards kicked down the slab and turned on the lamps just below the emitter nozzles on their blasters. As Vizsla withdrew his weapon, he and Bo-Katan followed suit as the two guards trained their lights on their findings.

In the small peeks of light that traveled about the dark room, Vizsla spied two figures—both horned, likely because they were Zabraks, though not likely Iridonian. Their tattoos were black. Lastly, they were both frozen in their sleep.

He drew his attention to one of them—he had no clothing save for a neck pad and two gauntlets. Two cybernetic legs were affixed to his torso, one of them crippled. His skin was crimson and up close, his hygiene certainly wasn't the best—though that mattered little.

He spied an item on the ground—it seemed like an exotically designed lightsaber hilt, though the very end of it had been scorched as a result of severence, most likely. The crystal that powered its blade was visible, and it was red just as the owner's skin.

Curiously, the Jedi wielded lightsabers, but none of them red-bladed, as that somehow violated their customs. What had Vizsla just come across?

He glanced to his side to observe the other Zabrak, whose arm had been maimed. That one he recognized—a bounty had been placed on his head sometime ago and he was a controversial topic to the Mandalorian mercenaries who differentiated themselves from Death Watch. He was a crime lord otherwise known as Savage Opress, with a million credits to be awarded to whoever brought him in dead. It was said that he was a Dark acolyte of Dooku's who committed sedition against the Separatists. That would be a useful means to an end if Vizsla ever sought to exact full revenge on Dooku. What Vizsla didn't know about him was his association with the first Zabrak he had come across.

Opress, too, carried a lightsaber. It was double-sided, and crafted much more extravagantly than his counterpart's.

He turned his attention back to the other, and picked up his lightsaber. His eyes darted from the hilt and back to its owner, trying to contemplate what the case might have been in this unusual scenario.

"What are you?" he asked aloud.

"Should we rub 'em out?" Bo-Katan asked, ever the ambitious one.

"No," he answered. "If they're an enemy of the Jedi, then they're a friend of mine." He turned back to his accompaniment and gestured towards their discoveries. "Load 'em up!"

* * *

Colonel Gascon and his squadron of astromech droids were safe from the Separatist forces that had arrived at Sarrish for exploitation of its resources. But that was no longer a problem for the Republic Commando known as Gregor, designation CC-5567-39. Now, there was the problem of how the blazes he was going to escape Sarrish himself. The way he came in was not possible anymore, thanks to the droids being alert of his presence and the east wing was gone, thanks to the explosions he had caused.

In fact, the best chance he had was in the Southern Wing, but the droids were increasing their focus on both it and the Western Wing. However, there was still time to get one even if not the other and though that time was running out, the Commando knew precisely what to do. Having thrown his last grenade in the effort to help the Republic Strike-team, he kept his blaster's bolts fixed on fuel canisters. They had a greater blast radius than the grenades did and, unliked them, produced favorable results in dealing with spider droids and super battle droids, though the Commando still had pests.

Running for the southern passage, he kept his aim on the necks of the battle droids so that they shut down automatically after having their heads blown off. Super battle droids were a bit more difficult, but luck seemed to be on his side since they always seemingly stood next to fuel canisters whenever they came for him. Spider droids, though few and far between compared to the SBDs, also stood next to fuel canisters whenever they came for him. Fighting his way out, he wasn't surprised to see blast marks on his chestplate, shin guards, and one of his gauntlets.

His helmet also bore some damage but thankfully, even it was repairable as far as damage was concerned. One couldn't say the same for many of those droids, however.

Finally, he was out of the hangar and just outside the spaceport of the planet that had been his home for much of the Clone Wars. Getting out of the hangar and outside of the planet wasn't the hard part; relocating himself back to the Republic was going to be the real challenge.

Most likely, he was going to have to stow away aboard a Separatist cruiser until he could commandeer an escape pod or a small shuttle from them. However, after what he had done in the hangar, it was more likely that they'd be searching for him than not.

Just his fortune, a smuggling freighter was getting ready to take off. Running across to it whilst dodging occasional blaster bolts from battle droids, he slipped into the closing hull of the ship just in time.

Residing in the cargo hull that he had crawled into, he decided it was best to figure out how to get back home once he arrived at the freighter's destination. He needed to go back to Kamino and quite possibly see what of cloning and weaponry had been updated.

_If the Kaminoans have anything that can give me an edge in this war, I'll need it._

Looking at the blaster that had been with him since the beginning, he suddenly began to wonder if he could just update it, rather than switch it out for a replacement.

After all, at the start of the Clone Wars, it had been the finest weapon an elite soldier could ask for. It could be that way again with just a few repairs and replacement parts that the Kaminoans surely had mechanics for. He would also need a new batch of grenades for long-range attacks when he had the chance to ask them for other supplies.

_This is going to be a long trip home._

* * *

Darth Maul awoke to a cool breeze that didn't unnerve him. However, his Dathomirian sight rendered the naturally blinding fluorescent lights in his parameters of vision ineffective in causing him disturbance, toning the brightness low at will. He found himself lying on a metallic surface, and peered at the rest of his atmosphere that was a tent comprised of medical storage, droids, and automated systems.

He winced with anxiety at the confusion he felt, and glanced down at the prodding he felt on his legs—

His _legs_?

So they had been repaired while he remained unaware of such transpirations. He reevaluated his thoughts as he recognized the change he felt in his lower limbs. They felt more . . . _humanoid_. Yet they were being manufactured—at least in less an excruciating way than they had been when Mother Talzin was the operator.

He searched the room for his brother and found his hulking body resting on a metallic restraint table nearby as well, just as Maul's had been not too long ago.

"Savage?"

His brother didn't even flinch.

He slumped back into his chair, annoyed by the strain he felt in his back and unaware of the two unfamiliar presences entering the room, one bearing the mark of Kenobi. He could _feel_ it.

Two humans walked inside the tent, both wearing Mandalorian armor otherwise known as _Beskar'gam_ and both opposite genders. Their armors were both colored with a matching scheme of grey and blue. The woman had acceptably long red hair, patterned in a certain way. The male was bald with blond eyebrows, and he wore a scar of experience across his face.

"You're not Jedi," the man said, a fair tone of curiosity relayed through his uniquely accented voice. "So what are you?"

The Sith would have asked the same situation, but it was obvious he was dealing with Mandalorians.

Maul sat up again, hissing with homicidal behavior, but it came to a halt when the woman drew a blaster pistol and aimed it at his brother. She dared to challenge his superiority, and she would have to pay for that. However, that time would have to come in another moment, when he was the one in control of his environment.

He sat down again hesitantly, and replied slowly. "We . . . are _Sith_."

"Do you serve Count Dooku?"

_Such a foolish question . . ._

"I serve _no one!_" He exhaled in a quick span, his anger heavy.

"I thought there could only be _two_ Sith," said the Mandalorian, trying to sound knowledgeable but not doing too well—for Maul's tastes, anyways. "A Master and an apprentice."

Lord Maul never swore allegiances to pretenders. "We are brothers—the _true_ Lords of the Sith."

"What happened to your ship?" the interrogator inquired.

Shame took over Maul's thoughts and amplified his contempt. "Destroyed by Jedi . . ."

"Do you know which Jedi?"

There was only one other man who could have as much impact on Maul's life as his brother. "_Kenobi._"

It was at that moment that the two Mandalorians had glanced at each other, as though the name had given them clarity of a sort.

And then the man turned again. "And what do you seek now, Sith?"

"Fortune . . . and _power._"

The Mandalorian looked at him with consideration and honesty—it was all so vividly portrayed in his blue eyes, though Maul determined those traits to be unvirtuous for a warrior. "Repair this one's legs, and do what you can for the other."

"Yes, sir," the medical droid droned.

Maul had been escorted to another tent by a Mandalorian servant after his repairs were complete. He hadn't hesitated to inquire when he would receive his weapon again, and as it was, he was to gain their trust.

He came to a stop in front of the tent where the Mandalorian leader expected him. Treachery was a great tool to many, even for those that adhered to honor at all times.

He felt the butt of a blaster dig into his back and shove him forward. "Go on, get moving!" the soldier barked.

Given the chance in any other situation, Darth Maul would have turned and unleashed a flurry of exotic red lightning upon the Mandalorian until his body turned to a crisp. But it wouldn't prove to do him any good—certainly not any better than the result of his situation with Hondo's treacherous pirates.

Maul entered on command and glanced at his new surroundings: the Mandalorian who had confronted him before was in the tent, standing beside a wooden table; his female companion walked beside Maul to reside in a corner; four other soldiers were lined up behind Maul's interrogator.

"In time for tea," he said. "Come join me."

Slowly and always calculating, Maul silently accepted the offer and walked over to the table. He was not bewildered by the hospitality, for he had worked with Mandalorians before in his apprenticeship.

He took a seat beside the man, and waited patiently as his cup was poured.

"Made with the florets of a Cassius tree," he said. "It's good for your health."

_That_ was reassuring.

Maul took his cup and barely inhaled the smell, though detecting no poison within the fluid. He willingly took a sip, and as he gulped some of the exotic-tasting liquid, he glanced at a unique Mandalorian helmet beside his benefactor—or _captor._ The helmet was adorned by a maximized communication satellite and was signified by a desaturated golden claw above the visor.

"Your mark?"

"The sign of Clan Vizsla," he answered. "I am _Pre_ Vizsla. We are the Death Watch, descendents of the true warrior faith all Mandalorians once knew. Now my people are living in exile because we will not abandon our heritage," Vizsla explained.

Though he was unaware of how they had fallen to this state, Darth Maul already knew their background. During his apprenticeship under Sidious, he recalled assembling Jango Fett and his armies at Galidraan to battle the Death Watch's forces—a mission in which he foiled the plot of one of Sidious's absurdly powerful former apprentices, Darth Athea.

"Our people were warriors; strong, _feared,_" Vizsla continued. "Now they're ruled by the New Mandalorians who think that being a pacifist is a _good_ thing. They've given away our honor and tradition, for peace . . ."

_Peace is a lie._

"Duchess Satine and her corrupt leadership are crushing our souls . . . _destroying_ our identity." He slammed his helmet onto the table, silverware clattering, and all the others including Maul stood by casually. "_That_ is our struggle."

His hate was a potentially useful conduit in which he could have conducted his path to power—so why he hadn't taken what opportunities had lied before him, Maul couldn't fathom.

"If they are _weak,_" Maul said, "why do you _wait?_"

"The Duchess has powerful allies," Vizsla replied. "Including your Jedi friend, _Kenobi._"

Maul bared his teeth, his self-preservation hardly managing to hold itself together.

"He is also responsible for our exile. Perhaps fortune has brought us together," Pre Vizsla proposed.

Maul drew himself up to his full—now shorter—height. "It is the will of the Force. We can help you reclaim Mandalore."

"And punish Kenobi for his trespasses!"

Perhaps they were allies for the right reasons—and possibly both conspiring against each other for the right reasons as well. Only time would tell.

"We've allied ourselves with Sith before," spoke a strong feminime voice, originating from the corner in which Vizsla's companion had dwelled. "Count Dooku, he betrayed us. Sith are no better than Jedi."

Maul narrowed his eyes and stared at the ground with agitation. Anger was useful, but highly dangerous if directed at superiority. He wondered what would happen when it boiled over.

"They claim to be powerful," she said, nearly chuckling, "but we put these two together _after_ the Jedi gutted them."

_Enough._

He closed his fist, and Vizsla's female lieutenant was lifted into the air—not by any means of her aerial arsenal, but by the mysterious grip that clutched her about the throat that she reached for without progress.

"Doubt . . . will only lead to failure."

This was a daring move even for him. He was surrounded on all fronts by the Mandalorians with their blasters trained on him, but Vizsla halted them. It was time _he_ had a chance to strong-arm them.

"Hold!" Vizsla ordered.

"Our combined strength _will_ be rewarded and Mandalore will be yours, and Kenobi, the Sith pretender Dooku, and _all our enemies,_" he promised, his eyes shaking with the dark side under his control threatening to explode in an infernal frenzy, "will _fall._"

And so she fell, fortunate the mercy she received but wouldn't give. It was time she learned it wouldn't always be the way she wanted.

As she coughed helplessly on the floor like an animal, Vizsla glanced at him with a look of agreement.

"Check on your brother," he said. "We'll put it to her vote."

Yes, his plot would finally be put into effect the correct way.

* * *

"_You have a new purpose . . ."_

_ A new sense of principles and loyalty was brought about._

"_You are a new being . . ."_

_ The past was consumed; the future became expanded._

"_You have been reborn . . ."_

_ The power found its potential. It couldn't be stopped._

_The bitter, cold touch weathered the mind until he became awake again. As he opened his eyes, he took a simple breath─and out came the predatory, monstrous hiss of an animal. He looked around himself and saw a new vessel of muscularity─and it was his. He wasn't the same. Something infiltrated him and gave rise to what he was now._

_ As he rested on a carved table, Nightsisters─including Mother Talzin and her minion sent to acquire him─all stared at him in admiration of his fully reached potential. He was no longer a mere Nightbrother doing his best to survive in the barren world known as Dathomir._

_ Now, he was worth more._

_ He stared at the Nightsister who had humiliated him several times. Her pale-blue eyes peered into his soul, searching for another way to use him. But he wasn't a tool anymore._

_ He reached out and grabbed her neck, ready to crush her until her usefulness was eradicated. She grabbed his wrist, but that wasn't enough to save her._

Now you understand how I feel.

_ He tightened his grip._

_ "Let me go!" she hissed between gags and gasps._

_ "Calmly, Sister," Mother Talzin advised._

_ Savage didn't dare turn his attention away from his prey. She made a mistake by bringing him here; a mistake she wouldn't live to regret._

_ "Let . . ." She was still struggling to force the words out of her slowly decimating lungs. "Let . . . me . . . _go._"_

_For a moment, he considered his alternatives and knew that she was still in power. In a blink of concession, she was out of his grip._

And he awakened to the smell of smoke.

As he wearily looked at what he thought was a cult of dark witches, instead he saw a heap of ruined droids and machinery.

"Rest, apprentice," a familiar voice said. "You're safe."

Savage glanced upward to find his brother walking through the mist of smoke he must have he created—and he looked _shorter_ . . . something he would have to table for the time being. Had his brother watched the entire time, and taken notice of his nightmares involving his transformation from a weakling to an inhumanly embodiment of power?

He rested against his cold restraint table and kept the newfound tent in his peripheral vision while he narrowed his attention on his left arm, which he had thought to have been maimed by the Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. It appeared he now had a prosthetic replacement, its exposed wires all wrapped up by grey cloth.

He wasn't if this new arm was an upgrade from his already superior body, or if it would affect his South-paw fighting form. Savage would have to spend time becoming used to this new tool. If there was any benefit, the artificial arm might be able to reduce his tiredness. He mulled over this new development and flexed his fingers when his brother suddenly interjected.

"Our crash was discovered by enemies of the Jedi and now, we are in their care," he explained.

Opress stretched his left arm out and took a deep breath as he continued adjusting to it. "Are we prisoners?"

"No." His Master paced about the tent. "Allies. They have much to offer, including their planet. They are strong, and unlike pirates, they posses honor."

Savage balled his cybernetic hand into a fist economically. "Another weakness." Their betrayal would be a matter of time.

"They know nothing of our intentions," Maul said, placing his own hand on Savage's. "Those revelations will come . . . too late."

Footsteps interrupted their moment of conference, and Savage glanced at the interest to find two of the first Mandalorians he'd ever seen walk into the tent.

"I see you have your strength back," a bald male said, gesturing casually at the mess Savage had made.

The Sith apprentice sighed in self-deprecating agreement, standing up tirelessly and his large horns accidentally ramming into the overhead lights.

The Mandalorian smiled, seemingly intrigued by their different forms of charisma. "I never got your names."

"I am Maul. This is Savage," Opress's Master said in introduction.

"Our brothers are in favor of an alliance to liberate Mandalore."

Opress certainly walked into that one.

"This Duchess of yours will soon discover the true burden of peace," Maul promised.


	3. Chapter III: Secrets

**The piece on Darth Sidious was done by ****_Your Majesty The Emperor_****, though edited for perspective by me. And the Bo-Katan piece was by ****_Christopher Cleveland_****, though I changed it slightly for appropriate progression through the story.**

* * *

**D**arth Maul paced about the village-like campgrounds of the Death Watch alongside Vizsla. They were currently conferring their next move to take over Mandalore.

From Maul's view of things, Vizsla's Death Watch soldiers faced the terrible hindrance known as honor—something that bound them to staying unpopular and almost forgotten. They would have to pull their weight willingly, but they were not without their uses. They were armored, dangerous, disciplined, and reliable.

"Your people are strong and skilled, but you will need an army to free Mandalore."

"There are more on Mandalore who will join us," Vizsla suggested.

"Their help would come too late," he denied. "We can assemble an army beginning with the Black Sun."

"They're a crime syndicate. Hardly a force to rally with."

He brought them both to a stop. It was time he helped Vizsla look reality in the eye. "They can provide us with the resources we need to sustain a war without the scrutiny of the Republic."

On that note, Vizsla had finally found himself susceptible to his advisement.

**R**eturning to Mustafar was an extraordinary moment of remembrance. Maul couldn't help but recount his life of servitude under the notorious and yet nearly unknown Darth Sidious. All he remembered of his life was being presented by a Dathomirian woman—most likely his still unknown mother—to the man he considered as much a termentor, a Master, as he did a father—who, too, still had yet to be revealed. During his isolation on Mustafar since childhood, he had been trained to become a lethal assassin. Often was he prompted by pain, fear, and starvation. What little he did eat were poisonous creatures of different variations.

But the time for recollection was over. Maul had returned to Mustafar for different reasons—the manipulation of the Black Sun. He was prepared to dismantle them as he had in the past under Sidious's orders. If Black Sun had a chance of escaping this endeavor, Maul didn't see it yet.

As the _Gaunlet—_as Pre Vizsla pronounced—touched down on a cargo platform, Maul and his brother studied an elegantly structured tower to which entry the bridges of the platforms guided. The Death Watch forces would deploy from aerial-release vessels and keep the Black Sun forces pinned down on the bridge, should any treacherous move be taken.

Finally, they had arrived at their destination. As the landing ramp on the _Gauntlet_ extended with pressurization systems initiating, Maul and Vizsla led their two counterparts Bo-Katan and Savage Opress across the bridge.

_It is time we met the Council._

And so they all marched in unison to the entry point—some quietly reluctant, some thrivingly ambitious. They would all be truly led into the darkness with ferocity.

Maul peered his eyes at the Black Sun guardsmen all adopting senses of subserviency as a particularly muscular figure exited their building, dressed in traditional robes as decreed by their organization—moreso, their religion. The Black Sun was commonly misperceived for a mere grubbing blight upon some in the galaxy, but in truth, they were raised by morals dedicated to supremacy.

"A battalion, brother," Savage affirmed.

"They will serve us well," Maul declared in return.

Both forces of opposition and perhaps alliance came to a halt in their strides. It was time they crossed paths, as well as time to figure out if their goals coincided—though even if not, they would be wise to submit.

"We request an audience with your leaders," Maul said, his voice having kicked into a certain cultured tone.

The enforcer Maul had spoken to smugly smiled in return. "It'll be your funeral." His voice was rich with tense preference for domination.

Even as the doorman chuckled, Maul could only process an extraordinary amount of thoughts for him in the blink of an eye. He shone like a beacon in the dark side of the Force. He sought power on a daily basis, and clearly had gained it through experience that Maul had yet to learn of. His mind was strong-willed and nearly as hard to read as the Force's individualized foreshadows and decisions. A potentially useful and yet dangerous associate given the chance, undoubtedly.

He impeccably masked his considerable interest and narrowed his eyes as he and his men proceeded into the Black Sun tower, following the yet-to-be-known doorman's lead.

**A**s Savage Opress continued following his brother and new ally Vizsla through the Black Sun corridors to the Black Sun Council Chambers, he though to himself as he often did in times like these. He wasn't much of a talker.

Approximately a year ago at the age of thirty-six, he had been a mere Nightbrother warrior bound by honor as were these Mandalorians. A slave to the Nightsisters, he was mutated into a vessel that literally embodied power. But even _that_ hadn't meant much at the time he had been forced into Count Dooku's torturous tutelage. His combat style was nonexistent at the time, and he was little more than a barbarian tempted by hot rage that threatened to boil him all over. This was still part of his conscience's makeup, but he didn't employ on as daily a basis as he used to. He added specified concentration to his mental abilities, and raged against the common enemy, not simply everyone or everything. Of course, the rage still festered. The severity of this emotion was so strong that it had nearly erased even all pretenses of humor that he used to know.

His abilities of surveillance reawakened as the Black Sun Council Chambers door hissed open to reveal five green-skinned figures dressed in wealthy uniforms bearing many hints of variety. Though many who were unknowledgeable might have considered their species commonly Mirialan, they were Falleen. Unlike the other, the Falleen didn't have natural tattoos that grew along with their skin. The doorman they had encountered not too long ago, however, had confusingly engraved black patterns onto his forehead.

Savage, Maul and Vizsla stood still and quiet as they awaited one of the Councilor's words.

"Why do you come here?" one of the Councilors—or Vigos, as translated by the Black Sun regime—asked with irritance.

"We seek an army," Savage's mentor replied evenly.

"Fools," the Vigo countered. "We are not mercenaries." He gestured to the three guardsmen and the doorman inside the room as well. "Dispose of them. Keep their ships and weapons."

Another Vigo greedily drew his long finger and pointed it at Vizsla. "Give me that one's sword," he ordered, following that statement with habitual laughter.

As the servants converged on the three opposing figures—two on Vizsla including the doorman, one on Savage and Maul each—their Mandalorian ally extended his arm to reveal a wrist blaster pointed straight into the enforcer's face, and employed the same strategy on his assisting guard. Maul acted in synchrony with the environment and intimidated another guard while Savage snarled angrily and took hold of a guard, gripping him by the throat in the air and bludgeoning him dead slowly.

One of the Vigos stared at Opress with perpetual surprise at his daring defiance as the soldier that had been wrangled to death was thrown onto their conference table, sprawled across for all of them to see.

"This is your last opportunity to join us," Maul proposed, employing a tone of irritance similar to that of one of the Vigos.

"Quiet," that same Vigo demanded in return. "We are the Black Sun!"

All of the Vigos rose from their chairs, fixing their glares on their competitors and ready to prove more of a challenge than their words imposed. But in truth, when compared to what they were up against, they were little more than lumbering cretins.

"Hmm. Very well, then," Lord Maul replied with false sympathy, nodding towards his apprentice knowingly.

Savage gribbed his saberstaff and drew it back as his Master crouched. Then, he ignited both sides of his weapon to reveal two synthetic-glowing blades. Lastly, he harnessed his Telekinetic abilities to send it pinwheeling through the cluster of Vigos, each of their heads separated from their shoulders one-by-one.

Opress stood in admiration of his handiwork and allowed the doorman's fear to ebb—not so much out of concern for his superiors but for his own sake.

The saberstaff whirled back into his grasp and deactivated shortly after its return. He clutched it meaningfully, having missed the feeling of being able to use such a weapon actively.

His brother drew himself to his full height and turned back to the doorman. "It would seem the decision to join us is now yours."

"After careful consideration," he replied hesitantly, "we will join you."

"Show us your supplies."

**P**re Vizsla monitored one half of the outside-environment supplication station while Maul handled the other. He could as much as he couldn't handle the distance between both of them. His willingness to expedite couldn't have any other reason to be contained. Even if there was a reason, it had to be legitimized.

"Lieutenant," he said to his second-in-command named Bo-Katan nearby through the established intercom they had built and programmed within their helmets—Bo-Katan, who he in secret he had also taken as a mate. "Monitor the progress of the supply transfer on this end while I speak with our associate, Lord Maul."

"As you wish," she answered.

He took his brief leave from his post and took comfort at the prospect of having an appreciative as well as helpful female companion at his side. It renewed him with purpose and strengthened his resolve for the liberation of all Mandalorians. It was what she stood for—what _they_ stood for.

He spied Maul across the platform, back turned to all and hands close behind. The Sith Lord's origins still remained unknown to Vizsla, but he seemed like a man of unforeseen vision. It was time he truly gained his favor.

Standing abreast of him, he put a gloved hand on Maul's shoulder. "We have our army now. I have a plan to undermine Satine."

To his dismay, Maul slapped the hand away in disgust as though it were a sinful course of action. "The army is weak. We are not ready for the Duchess."

Vizsla digressed. "With my plan, we won't need a bigger force." He took a step back as Maul startlingly turned to face him directly, as though peering into his soul and trying to make what of his thoughts he could.

"There is only one plan. One vision."

"And it belongs to Death Watch."

The Sith Lord wasn't willing to back down either. "Your vision lacks clarity. Without us, you have no army and no _reason_ to replace the Duchess."

That statement fell on Vizsla as much like a rambling on deaf ears as a telepathic signal sent from some mysterious corner that crept quietly in the universe.

"The depth of this opportunity eludes you. You shall watch and _learn._" And with that, the Sith Lord took his leave and left Vizsla with his task.

To Vizsla's surprise, this exceeded any comparison to his dealings with Dooku. He had never been strong-armed in such a tyrant-like behavior before. And yet he succumbed to it, left to grovel in the dark.

**D**arth Sidious had not foreseen this.

Like the Jedi, he had been convinced that Maul had expired at the hand of Kenobi many memorable years ago. Evidently he had been mistaken. That alone was grounds for concern. His precognitive abilities combined with his natural affinity to the dark side of the Force had never failed in the past. Everything had always proceeded according to plan without complication, without deviation.

He had _not_ foreseen this.

At first, he tried to dismiss his concern at this obvious problem. He was almost tempted to believe that which he had told Kenobi.

_Let Maul play amongst the rabble. He is of no threat. Not to me, anyways._

He couldn't stop that which Sidious had set in motion.

_Let him kill Jedi. Let him loot and pillage his way across the galaxy with that brother of his. It is of no consequence to my machinations._

No! No, there must've been a reason. There must've been a reason why Maul had resurfaced, especially at this critical juncture in Sidious's plans.

It was a message, a warning from the dark side of the Force. His path to victory was assured, but he had allowed himself to become . . . arrogant.

_Arrogance:_ the deadly sin that had condemned every Dark Lord before Sidious.

Malak.

Vitiate.

Exar Kun.

Marka Ragnos.

Each one met with their gruesome fates differently from one another. But one constant factor was the unraveling of their plans: arrogance. They had grown secure in their power, believing that no one or nothing could ever hinder them. And yet, all that had become of them was death.

Yes—yes, it was a message. Sidious had become sloppy, leaving such loose ends untied. He could never assume anything, and he could never underestimate anyone. It could be his undoing, the undoing of the Sith.

_I should be worried. I should be angry. I should be beside myself with homicidal rage for this obvious blunder on my part._

But he wasn't. The situation was all too amusing to him. To think that Maul fancied himself as a Dark Lord of the Sith! Sidious's replacement.

_Please._

He planned to rule the galaxy. The only thing Maul was capable of doing with the galaxy was hitting it repeatedly in the face. Maul was a brute, a wild nexu with a thirst for blood. And while his skills with a lightsaber were proficient and his physical strength was commendable, he was certainly _lacking_ in key areas. And that was how it should have been. Sidious had trained him as an assassin, someone who could deal with his enemies in a brutal and efficient manner while Plagueis and Sidious dealt with the more long-term aspects of the Grand Plan.

_Now that I think about it, _assassin _is far too generous. Maul was an errand boy, nothing more, nothing less._

He was a placeholder, a tool who served Sidious's immediate purposes until such time as he could find someone better.

In order to be a true Lord of the Sith, one have patience, subtlety, and cunning on their side. In order to survive in a galaxy crawling with Jedi, one must be covert and intelligent.

_Maul has none of this. Maul is a blunt, impatient creature who wouldn't know subtlety even if it came up and bit his hand._

But Maul knew none of this. He thought that all it took was brute force to win the day. He couldn't have been more wrong. To defeat your enemy, you must have both brains and brawn on your side. Something Sidious had in spades.

For now, he was content to let Maul play his little game. He would make for an excellent distraction. The Jedi would waste their time and energy on a wild bantha chase as they scoured the galaxy in search of him, all the while unaware of the Dark Lord sitting in their midst. The Dark Lord they called Chancellor. Their _leader._

_Oh, how sweet irony is._

Even though Maul thought himself free, he was still Sidious's puppet, serving his purposes, just like everyone and everything else in the false war.

But Maul _was_ a loose end, one that Sidious had to tie up eventually. But how would he deal with him? Dooku could not be trusted to handle such a delicate matter, and Grievous lacked the skill.

_I suppose I shall have to deal with Maul and his brother myself._

Sidious looked over to one of his statues that adorned his office. In a secret chamber located deep within the statue lied his lightsaber, an artificial manifestation of his power and rage.

"Soon, my friend," Sidious found himself whispering to his hidden lightsaber. "Soon you will taste first blood."

Yes, Maul and Savage would fall upon his blade, followed shortly by the Jedi and their beloved Republic. The galaxy would be his, and he would rule for all eternity. He just had to be careful.

Despite this minor inconvenience, everything would still proceed according to plan.

**I**t was while Pre Vizsla and Bo-Katan had been conferring with Darth Maul that an unusual starship had hovered over their open-terrain base on Zanbar and set down right in front of its entry point. The unique viewports on the black starships had risen, and from the cockpits emerged differently bipedal beings, identified by their gray skin, pod-like heads, death-head masks, armor, and their long arms and feet. The leader of the group was of the same species, but without his mask his skin was a dark desaturated green, and his wide eyes glowed a venomous purple. He wore goggle-like glasses and a light brown tunic. Vizsla recognized them as the Pyke Syndicate based on Oba Diah, led by their Minister, Lom Pyke.

As Vizsla, Bo-Katan, Maul, and the new arrival converged on each other, the female Mandalorian couldn't help but voice her disdain for the newcomers.

"More criminals," she muttered.

Vizsla didn't express a preference for their company either. The Death Watch were honorable warriors and soldiers, not grubbing thugs and criminals.

"Spice dealers connected to all the crime families of Coruscant," he responded with well-masked false enthusiasm.

"The Pykes," Maul affirmed with a half-grin. "They will be the next to join us."

As the slim and tall Pykes came closer, Vizsla couldn't help but notice the golden crest engraved into the Minister's forehead. He wondered what physical toll that might have taken.

Lom Pyke's hands were folded in front of him as he came to a halt along with his forces. "We know you've been forming an army," he said with a wide closed smile, his voice uniquely bearing the rasp-like echo of a droid but mixed with personality.

Maul stood abreast of Vizsla. "Were you expecting us?" he inquired.

"Underworld's a small community." He planted his hand on his chest. "I have no desire to oppose you. We come to join you."

As Vizsla advanced to shake his hand, Lom Pyke's counterparts all clicked and gurgled in celebration and mingled with the Mandalorians who kept their base safeguarded.

He gripped Lom's hand firmly. "Very good." He looked back from Bo-Katan's eyes to the Pyke leaders'. "Then ready our troops. We leave for Nal Hutta immediately."

**S**avage Opress stood in the center of the Hutt Council Chambers of Nal Hutta alongside Darth Maul and Pre Vizsla. He hadn't paid much attention to the _negotiations_ being arranged since he was completely unknowledgeable of the Huttese language, and it was all gibberish to him. Instead, he had spent most of the time comparing his new path to conquest to what his life might have been like, had he still served Count Dooku. He concluded that were he still Dooku's apprentice—more elaborately, slave—he would've been used merely as a conduit for victories in a pointless and never-ending war. However, under Maul's tutelage, he was now a Vice Commander for the Empire of dreams they had discussed long ago, before they had escaped the Cybloc station. This Empire had a more wise and reachable agenda.

"_Da wanga oo Stuka Crispo, pa ranna hi dopa_," said the most notorious of the Hutt families, Jabba the Hutt, residing above a fort-like assortment of feasting tables. Like all but the present Oruba and few others, he was transmitting via holo to this conversation.

Unlike Savage, Maul understood much more about the languages of outsiders. "There are many things the Hutts influence and possess that would be useful to us," he responded, his closed fist against his revealed chest.

"_Ah'chu apenkee?_"

"We have no credits," Maul answered, shaking his head.

"_Chut chut, bargon de molee-rah_?" Oruba said in a way that Savage would consider a question. His statement had attracted the attention and nodding agreements of others.

Opress guessed it was along the lines of, _What else will you have to offer?_

"Your lives," Maul said, taking a daring step forward, "in exchange for Hutt Space and everything in its borders."

The gathered crowd of Hutts responded with exceptionally aroused laughter—possibly a commonality among their species or roles, as in relation to the Black Sun. As Savage stepped forward as well, ready to employ forceful methods, Jabba gave them a final word.

"_Bunta chupo_."

Through his fizzling hologrammic form emerged a Kyuzo bounty leaping onto one of the feasting tables Savage recognized as Embo shortly after his vacancy from the Separatists—he was said to be exceptionally acrobatic and skilled in using his metal hat in several circumstances. Beside Embo was his infamous growling pet he kept around, an exotic wild anooba with grey fur. With them came an armored mercenary covered in robes and armed with a rifle, a female Iridonian Zabrak armed with a carbine rifle, and a pink Theelin female armed with a lethal pistol.

"_Stoopa yatuka_," said Jabba, who was seemingly entertained.

The Zabrak drew a polished assassin's knife, flourished by sending it whirling alone in the air and catching it impeccably, and then taking firm hold and sending it strait for Maul's forehead. But it paused in its graceful and lethal movement.

As the Zabrak female watched in wide surprise, Savage held his left cybernetic hand palm-wide behind his brother's horn-crowned head, Telekinetically halting the knife's continued movement. On Maul's mental note, he allowed it to drop gently into his brother's awaiting invisible grasp. Then the blade was sent whirling back, landing like a dart in front of the wild anooba.

On Jabba's roaring command, varieties of blue and crimson blaster bolts wailed through the air. Savage barely nodded to his brother before spinning around and activating his saberstaff, its blades humming with the taunt of a lion while shielding his two comrades from the sudden attack. As the fire began to supress on him from all vectors, Maul joined the fray beside him while Vizsla provided cover fire, keeping the ambushers grounded and unable to advance.

The attackers seemed to recognize that Maul was less accustomed to deflecting against blasters than Savage. To interrupt his already stressed concentration, the bounty hunter Embo sent his anooba flying at Maul with a vast bloodlust waiting to be sated. Though, to Savage's relief of worry, Maul simply responded by pushing the wild animal back and using the Force to strengthen his physical impact, hurling the anooba back to its source. It was a technique Savage likely didn't require, but he sought to learn it in a different point of time.

Pain seared through Savage's body as a blaster bolt scorched his right arm. He turned to find a wild assortment of Twi'lek slaves and armored Niktos flanking them from the side, and gained a glimpse at the Nikto who had penetrated his unforeseen vulnerability. Turning with aroused ferocity, he slammed the Nikto's blaster bolts aside and shortened the blade distance to his opponent in practice of the Sith lightsaber tactic known as Sith Shien, then dismembered his weapon and grabbed him with his cybernetic arm, hurling him at a nearby Hutt.

As three more of the flankers advanced, Savage caught view of a blue Twi'lek clutching at his throat by way of Maul's telekinetic abilities while his feet kicked for the ground beneath him—then, he too as ragdolled into a Hutt. A second later, Opress beheaded another advancing Nikto and turned to find that one of the Twi'leks that had charged his brother fearlessly was now cut down, rendered ineffective in his attempt.

As Savage and Maul deflected all incoming blaster fire, Vizsla rocketed above them with his jetpack and landed underneath the wave of bolts, then activated his flamethrower and spread it to engulf their enemies. All of the Hutts and mercenaries had crouched beneath the feasting tables for cover so the attempt to burn them was useless, but it bought the three time. Savage was the first to turn and run outside of the chamber, followed shortly by Maul and Vizsla.

They paced down the adjacent corridor and made a right turn to a guarded landing platform, where the Nite Owls of the Death Watch would provide an aerial explosive ambush to assist them against the enforcers and exclusive mercenaries of Nal Hutta.

_They had better be here on time,_ Savage thought as he bared his teeth.

The rains of Hutta began peppering against Savage's armor as they advanced towards the center of the platform. On the way, Opress rammed both edges of his saberstaff through two unsuspecting guardsmen.

By the time they had all reached the middle of the platform, all of the Nikto guards surrounding it were alert and the mercenaries from the Hutt Council chambers had caught up. Opress turned to whirl all of the mercenaries' blaster bolts away while Vizsla and Maul took care defending his back.

_They're here._

They all turned simultaneously to face the space above an advancing squad of Niktos to find the Nite Owls en route to their location via flight on jetpacks. Maul provided Vizsla the cover he needed while Opress signaled the approaching Mandalorians with his saberstaff. A second later, the advancing Nikto squad and nearly everything in their radius was decimated by explosions.

Savage spun back around to counter the mercenaries with his deflection skills while Vizsla relayed orders to Bo-Katan through what he thought was an internal comlink built inside their helmets. Another few seconds later, more explosions forced the mercenaries who fired on Opress into cover, left to deal with the Mandalorians who surprised them.

Maul and Savage took care sweeping the last of the Nikto squads off the platform Telekinetically while Vizsla pointed toward the Mandalorians' entry point to the Hutt Council chambers.

"Retreat! Retreat!" the Theelin assailaint of the mercenaries shouted. "Back inside!"

As the Hutt forces were sent back in retreat, Opress batted away more blaster bolts and charged back into the corridor with Vizsla and Maul, the Nite Owls clearing all of the opposition in front of them.

Yes, Dooku could never compare any proposition to this destined conquest for control.

As the last of the assisting Mandalorian forces entered the Hutt chambers, Savage finally relaxed himself and turned off his blades when Maul suddenly slumped down and Vizsla was thrown to the ground forcefully, struggling to recover from the concussive impact he endured. Opress turned to face the attacker—the female Zabrak—and then he ignited one blade of his staff and swung hard at her face. She dodged the counterattack with a crouch, and Savage closed his eyes painfully as a disc of metal connected with his face. He slid against the floor and his hilt escaped his grasp.

He dizzily spied the bounty hunter Embo converging on him as the metal hat flew back into his hand and quickly scrambled to his feet before his brief vulnerability could be taken advantage of. Even as he attempted to fight back without his lightsaber, his muscular superiority notwithstanding, the slight concussion he felt sent him stumbling backward at the hand of Embo's aerial assaults and he found himself kneeling tiredly before the indefatigable bounty hunter.

But he willed himself up again. He growled as he extended his long arms to catch the bounty hunter in mid-air, but his attempt to wrangle the attacker was rendered ineffective by his slow timing. As he turned around to face Embo again, he strained as the Kyuzo sent a kick into his left breast. He narrowly avoided the hat slamming into his face again and used both of his arms to shield himself against a spin-kick; then, he began ramming both of his arms into the Kyuzo, who used the hat as a shield. But as the pacing of the metal's clanging grew faster, it was Embo who found himself becoming quickly overpowered. Savage ended the series of blows with a hard punch using his left cybernetic arm, throwing Embo flat onto his back.

The bounty hunter had finally blurted his unaccustomed astoundment.

Unrelenting in his counterassault, Savage roared barbarically and sped forward. The Kyuzo got up just in time but was sent against the wall painfully after Opress had spun and threw his leg against the opponent without weight but full of momentum. But the acrobat seemed to use the impact of the slam against the wall to his advantage. As he bounced backward, he spun in coinciding movement and sent the hat for Savage's head one last time, before it was forced out of his grasp and used against him.

_Not a methodical move._

As Opress rose the disc of metal high into the air, he attempted to slam it onto the Kyuzo who struggled to hold onto it and push it backward—but his attempts were in vain as he took a hard kick to the chest. He maintained his left hand's hold on the hat as his boots slid against the ground and his right arm nurtured his body. But then to Savage's surprise, Embo fluidly once against used the impact to his advantage and then slid back to his enemy, backflipping through Savage's grip on the metal hat and sending a kick to his jaw as he landed with a fair distance from Opress, his inventory reclaimed.

Savage no longer tolerated the bounty hunter's persistence. He grunted as he rammed his artificial arm into the Kyuzo's hat until it busted inward and hit the bounty hunter. Embo screamed away his pain and took the continued punishment of Savage's blows. Opress dug his knee deep into Embo's chest and then threw him against a nearby wall like the dog he was. He was finally _defeated_.

The yellow-and-brack Zabrak regained his awareness after the combat had come to a brief halt and examined his surroundings: Embo's anooba bounded by his side; the female Zabrak frowned hopelessly as her oblique eyes narrowed on Maul; the bodies of a squadron of Nikto guards littered the floor around Vizsla.

As the trio walked forth to finish their opponents off, a metallic ball rolled onto the ground which Savage believed was a thermal detonator—but to his relief, it emitted a cloudy mist rather than vaporized everything in its vicinity.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!" the voice of the Theelin echoed from a shrouded corridor.

As soon as the shroud of mist dissolved, Savage spotted the assassins retreating desperately. He advanced eagerly alongside Vizsla to destroy them, but then Maul waved off the intent.

"Let them go," he ordered. "They're only bounty hunters; they have no allegiance."

Savage and Maul scowled as the attackers fled and slowly turned around to return to the Hutt Council chambers that were now radically burning, Telekinetically resummoning their lightsaber hilts before entering.

"Sir, the Hutts have escaped," one of the Mandalorians said as they entered. Then, he added deviantly: "Except one."

The three approached the cornered parasite Oruba as Vizsla removed his helmet. Oruba's eyes widened hopelessly as he was entrapped by the Nite Owls from behind and his executors also kept him grounded.

"Where are the others?" Maul hissed.

"_Hopa! Hopa!_" the Hutt screamed.

_A wasteful cry for help._

Opress watched his brother as he turned his back on the Hutt and walked away slowly as he folded his arms behind his torso. But then he paused.

"Kill him."

As a single blade of Savage Opress's saberstaff ignited, Oruba began to wail irritatingly. "_Hagwa. Hagwa. Hagwa._"

Maul peered into the slug's mercy-hopeful eyes and stood very close to Savage's crimson blade. "Give me a location."

Savage amplified his demand by threateningly moving his saber closer to Oruba's wide eyes.

"Tatooine," the Hutt answered frightfully. "Tatooine."

"Jabba's palace," Vizsla confirmed.

Darth Maul paused in a certain state of reevaluation that Savage didn't encounter many times in his affiliation with his Master. And then he replied.

"So the only thing that you can tell me is, that I will find Jabba at _Jabba's palace?_" He coldly eyed Savage with a slight nod of his head.

Opress understood the signal. Growling, he grabbed his hilt tightly and held it above his horned head, staring into the Hutt's eyes damningly. This moment was similar to the first time Savage had killed a Hutt in the same fashion, whose name was Noggox. Interestingly, the current situation resembled one of his errands for Dooku. Hopefully this would not continue.

Oruba cried out to no avail. He was one lonely, lowly and inbipedal being against the combined forces of Sith and Mandalorians.

Savage's saber crackled as he drove it through the Hutt's body for the ultimate killing blow.

**J**abba the Hutt clapsed his fingers together as he replayed the recent events in his mind, sharing glances of anxiety with the Hutt he had given temporary refuge for vacancy, Gorga. As of lately, a force never thought of before had approached their fellow Councilors on Nal Hutta and challenged their power with threats to take away their lives were they not to give up all that resided within their intimacies. Afterward, a fight had broken out and the fate of the other Hutts was still unknown.

And then the palace rumbled, arousing the crowd of Jabba's palace and breaking the rhythm of the enslaved Twi'lek dancer in the middle of the room.

_They have come to usurp me._

A clumbsy Gammorean fell unconsciously onto a stack of crates in the hallway to enter Jabba's throne. He gestured toward the hallway to the palace's entry, and his slacking Gammorean Guards reawakened and grabbed their axes. Slowly, somewhat mindlessly, they walked on until they were both dispatched—victims to both blaster fire and lightsaber burns.

A _Sith_ was involved.

A hulking yellow-black Zabrak, a shorter and physically lesser red-black Zabrak, a Mandalorian, and his armored female soldiers took his guards' place.

"To what do I owe this unusual pleasure?" he asked, more humored than he was frightened.

"Give up, Jabba. You're the only ones left," the top Mandalorian representative said.

Very inconvenient if the truth.

The notably demonic red-and-black Zabrak eyed him, unleashing a certain sense of piercing dread. "Submit or suffer."

Gorga seemed to be eyeing Jabba with indifferent amusement, eager to see how he would handle being strong-armed by a superior force.

_They win this round, but it will not last._

"This is my kind of Sith scum," he finally said. "I propose we open diplomatic relations with the likes of them."

His pinheaded translator droid, its photoreceptors glowing orange with each word. "The mighty Jabba and the Hutt families have decided to join you."

**V**izsla walked beside the calculative Maul, who seemed to be deep in thought, as even as his stride was. His exotic discretion had a certain ring of treachery. It served as a harbinger for something . . . something that would unravel indefinitely.

He had to break the silence. "Between the Hutts, Black Sun, and the Pykes, we'll have a large reserve of muscle and supplies."

He merely responded, "Yes." Just as easily, he disregarded him for a moment to continue pondering the future.

"Then Mandalore and Kenobi are still our priority?" he inquired.

He seemed to stare at nothing, but his eyes still bore reception to insight. "They are vital."

"I'm curious to hear the rest of your plan."

Maul closed his eyes patiently and then eyed Vizsla only briefly, then smiled pleasantly and continued looking ahead, then adopting a coldly serious look. "The vision has expanded. You will still rule Mandalore, and under your protection, I will command a new galactic underworld."

Vizsla visibly paused with a hint of frustration, Maul stopping in front of him with an unintelligibly masked observation. Despite this alliance, Vizsla had never been eager to lend a helping hand to dishonorable criminals. They were almost completely intolerable—so much so in Vizsla's mind that his fist bulged with homicidal intent.

He freed his hand and continued walking alongside the Zabrak, ready to bring a new idea to the table that would hopefully be enough to throw Maul and his visions of grandeur out of the Mandalorian picture.

"Mandalore influences a league of two-thousand neutral systems. It gives you a great deal of options for your enterprise."

Maul cocked his head, his following statement fueling Vizsla's grudge. "You have learned from your previous oversights." He stared ahead and seemed to narrarate his plans, rather than confer with Vizsla directly. "With their combined forces, the Republic and the Separatists will be irrelevant."

"Then are we ready?"

He finally turned. "Mobilize the army. Send an advanced guard to the capital. I want a list of targets vital to Mandalore's security." Then, he issued his final and most agitating order. "Choose wisely. There will be no second chances."

And with that, he left.

**B**o-Katan broke off from her conversation from one of the members of the Nite Owls to counsel Vizsla if necessary, seeing as he was barely containing his rage shortly after speaking with their associate, Darth Maul.

He stood in front of her, his narrowed face indicating that he would likely return to the _Gauntlet_ to vent out his frustrations on training droids using his Darksaber.

"Stay focused. Mandalore will soon be ours, and Maul and his brother will be _dead_ alongside the Duchess," he snapped.

As he left, she decided that she needed to leave Vizsla alone to sort it all out on his own. She spied Savage Opress walking across the sand to his brother, remembering their conversation on Zanbar regarding their affiliations. When she had a chance with Savage alone, she would ask him what his brother's gameplan was—though to what avail, she was unsure.

Normally, he hadn't known and she could see it in his expression, but she had a feeling that Maul would reveal his plans to him now. The wise were the ones who never trusted their allies with their official plans before they were ready to initiate them. Savage was apparently amongst the ones his brother had kept in the dark until now, and Bo-Katan needed to find out what the two of them were up to as soon as possible.


End file.
